


Ultimatum

by bookworm773



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Deathfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm773/pseuds/bookworm773
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sniper/Spy deathfic in which their relationship is found out by the Administrator and Miss Pauling is sent over to tell Sniper to kill his lover.  A short and painful fanfiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ultimatum- Part 1

"We understand that you’re an intelligent man, Mr. Mundy," Miss Pauling leaned forward, her hands folded neatly on the table in front of her. Minutes earlier, she had invited herself into the van. Now she was sitting across from the Sniper, ignoring the cup of coffee he had offered her. "That’s why I’m not going to bribe you, like I did with your drunken friend. I can tell you’re much too loyal for that sort of thing."

The Sniper slumped in his chair, one arm lying lazily across the back. A nearly burnt out cigarette dangled from his lips. “Are we going somewhere with this, or…?”

"I’ll get to the point," her lips drew into a tight, unsmiling line, "We know about your little- how shall I put it- rendezvous with the BLU Spy. We caught all of it on camera. As I’m sure you’re aware, that sort of contact with the other team goes against your contract. So I’m offering you an ultimatum: either that Spy dies by your hands, or I think you’ll find your parents are not as safe as you may have thought.”

"You keep my goddamn folks out of this!" The Sniper straightened up, all airs of relaxation disappearing. He swallowed, keeping down the panic that was trying to force its way up his throat. She knew. She knew everything, and now she was trying to use his parents to ruin it all.

"Oh, don’t worry," Miss Pauling said, betraying no sign that she was frightened of the mercenary, "They’ll be perfectly fine, as long as you kill that Spy."

He ground his teeth, thinking. “How do I even know you’re telling the truth,” he asked, after a moment, “Sneaky little sheila like you, wouldn’t put it past you to lie your way through this. Hell, you probably don’t even know where my parents are.”

"At the moment? Safely tied up in a warehouse," she drew a large phone from her handbag and dialed a number, "Here. You can speak with them yourself." The phone was offered to him.

The Sniper took it, holding it up to his ear and trying to keep his hand from shaking. “Hello?” He said quietly.

"Hello? Hello? Who is that?" The voice was unmistakably his mother’s.

"Mum! Mum, it’s me! Are you okay?"

"It was these men, dear. They said they were checking for termites and I let them in, but then they grabbed us and-"

"Look, Mum, are you hurt?"

"Well, not physically, but-"

"Okay, you’re going to be fine, all right? I’m going to come and get you. Don’t worry. Just stay calm." The Sniper promised, just as Miss Pauling took the phone back and hung up.

"You see? Unharmed."

The Sniper stood, towering dangerously over the table. His words were little more than a growl, “Ain’t many people get away after messing with my parents.”

"Oh, by all means, kill me," She replied, utterly unconcerned, "That just means everyone dies." Miss Pauling got to her feet, smiling sweetly at the dumbfounded Sniper. "I’ll leave you to think about your options. Oh, and if you refuse, I’m sure we can find someone else to finish off your lover." She picked up her bag and left the van.

The Sniper watched her go, too stunned to say anything. After she left, he fell into his chair, rubbing his face with his calloused hands. Options? What sort of options were those? The Spy died either way.

With a frustrated snarl, he brought his hand violently down on the table, hard enough to leave it humming with pain. God damn it. He hat told that French bastard so many times. He said that it wouldn’t go well. That they’d be found out eventually. He was right. And now there was hell to pay.

He rested his head on his hands, slumping forward in defeat. Harsh sobs shook his thin frame. There were no options.


	2. Ultimatum - Part 2

There were no options. There were no options. All the Sniper could do was repeat it, chanting it over and over in his mind. It was the only way he could justify his actions. He had been given an order, not a choice.

He had come up to the perch with reluctant feet, praying that he wouldn’t find the suited man lounging across one of the crates. They used meet there sometimes, before the battle got really heated. A few kisses, a whisper of good luck, and the Spy would disappear in a swirl of cigarette smoke. 

Thankfully, the perch was empty of life, save for the blue-green mold growing persistently over the remains of a sandwich left from the last battle. He breathed a sigh of relief, settling down in his usual seat. It would be easier to do from far away. Less personal. It would just be like any other job, right?

The Sniper spent the day hunched and shaking, peering through the scope with eyes that didn’t want to see. If he tried hard enough, maybe he’d never catch sight of the Spy. It could be a day, a week, or even more before he saw his lover. It wouldn’t be his fault if the bastard never showed up.

But it’s hard to ignore such an obvious target.

He watched in horror as the Spy casually strolled across the battlements to speak to the BLU Engineer, who had been hiding behind a sentry. The Spy leaned against a dispenser, obviously unworried.

The Sniper closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew he had to take this chance. The Administrator would be watching, and letting this opportunity pass could be a bad choice.

He opened his eyes and drew the rifle up, his palms slick with sweat. A wave of nausea rolled through his stomach. He took another breath, steadying his aim. The red dot danced on the Spy’s forehead. 

Damn it. He never realized how hard it could be to pull a trigger. His grip had to be so perfectly firm on the barrel, his body tensed correctly to absorb the recoil. And that finger had to be pressed down so deliberately. 

The Sniper stared through the scope for a few moments, his body fighting itself. It was enough time for the Engineer to notice the dot, yelling for the Spy to duck. 

The Spy managed one look, a look directly at the Sniper, a look filled with shock and betrayal. Then everything paused, and there was one, single, clean shot.

The Sniper watched the Spy fall, bits of skull and brain painting the wall like a gory masterpiece. He bent over, retching violently onto the floor. Four words had seared themselves into his mind.

There were no options.


End file.
